


mé·nage à trois

by pleasert



Series: green light (verse) [3]
Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Cigarettes, Dirty Talk, Edgeplay, Face Slapping, Humiliation, Kink Negotiation, Marijuana, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations, Polypolygon, Praise Kink, Pre-Threesome, Relationship Negotiation, Slight D/s Dynamics, Threesome - F/M/M, and yeah i kinda did, biaro simone de rochefort, domme!simone, halfway into finishing writing this i was like oh no did i accidentally write, like an almost orgy but soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:48:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21621226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleasert/pseuds/pleasert
Summary: This—him, Simone, and Pat—could be,Brian thinks,a thing.He doesn’t know how to quantify it, or even maybe how to bring it up, but he’s seen the way Pat becomes all liquidy under Simone’s hands, how he melts into submission. And Simone and Brian have their own history, their own chemistry. When Pat gives Simone her drink, she tells him how verygoodit is, and he smiles wide and big.Brian’s not one to shy away from seeing Pat smile like that more often.
Relationships: Brian David Gilbert/Patrick Gill, Brian David Gilbert/Patrick Gill/Clayton Ashley, Brian David Gilbert/Patrick Gill/Simone de Rochefort, Simone de Rochefort/Jenna Stoeber
Series: green light (verse) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1557463
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	1. a single green light, minute and far away

**Author's Note:**

> many thanks to @spacegirl for writing this with me <3 <3 <3 my life is better cuz ur in it!!
> 
> warnings: 
> 
> \- rpf  
> \- explicit sexual content  
> \- marijuana, alcohol, and tobacco cigarette use  
> \- the pairings will be added as chapters are added with the pairings in them, if that makes sense. but just as a warning—the pairings that this fic intends to explore are: brian/pat, brian/pat/simone, brian/pat/clayton, some pat/clayton and brian/clayton, and some jenna/simone.  
> \- i will try to tag warnings and put warnings in the intro note in chapters for things like substances and typical triggering subjects, but feel free to let me know if there’s a better way to warn/tag/tw!  
> \- fic title and chapter titles are quotes from the great gatsby  
> \- pov switches every so often, separated by dashes. it shouldn't bother ya!
> 
> peas enjoy !!
> 
> \- scout

It’s not until after Brian and Pat moved in together that Brian brings up doing anything with Simone; Pat’s a little bit skittish about a lot of things, and it’s not like—well, inviting a coworker over to have sex with you and your boyfriend is not the most normal or relaxing thing to think about, so Brian gets it, _really_ , he does. 

But it’s just that—Brian can’t help but notice a crackling energy between Pat and Simone, red-hot and jittery, and every time Sim so much as sends Pat a disdainful glance, Pat gets a little sweaty around the temples. And don't get him wrong, Brian’s not jealous; he’s not a _jealous_ person, thank you very much, he just wants to see what strings he can pull, how deep into this space they can play. He’s a curious fucker, and he’s gonna figure this one out, see exactly how pressurized he can make the situation. 

It’s a snowy, biting cold morning in mid-December when Brian invites Simone over to plan a joint performance, and she’s rowdy from the moment her fist hits the door of Brian’s apartment in a quick, confident knock. It makes Pat jolt a little, his elbow knocking against the table—Zuko jumps from where he was laying on Laura’s lap to the floor, and Laura scoffs at Pat disapprovingly—and almost immediately afterwards, Brian’s opening the door, ushering Simone inside with loud, amicable greetings and big hugs. 

These two are not just coworkers; they’re friends, and it’s nice to see how Simone acts in her day-to-day, when it’s not near-midnight at an illegal queer party. She still dresses with a sharp, dramatic androgynous-feminine style, though: her black pants are high-waisted and fit in a slim but not tight fashion, tailored with a knowing eye, and she wears a deep-cut white blouse, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She always looks like she’s ready to do some _business._

Brian leans forward to kiss Sim’s cheek, and she kisses his in tune. She’s murmuring something, low and quiet, for just Brian to hear—she likes to do that, Brian’s noticed—and in turn, Brian likes to watch her eyes flicker from his own face to Pat’s, likes to watch them linger on Pat’s confused expression. It doesn’t matter much what she’s saying—what matters more is how it makes Pat _feel,_ to not be a part of their banter. To _not_ know the full mystery, the entire mystique: something has to be left to the imagination. 

The thing is that Pat’s so eager to please, Brian could die for it. After Simone hugs and kisses Brian, she’s shucking her coat and hanging it up on their rack, and she walks towards Pat with a sort of purpose, and Pat’s a little frozen for a second—Brian recognizes the way his face goes a little slack ( _awe, maybe? Anticipation?_ ) when Simone does that—before he’s scrambling to say something; stutters out a “hi, Simone, nice to s-see you,” and it’s a little quieter than Pat’s normal volume of voice, crackly like a campfire or maybe static electricity. 

She looks at him, up and down. Like she’s deciding something. Pat’s eyes are bugging out, wide, and Brian waits. It’s a few beats before she says, “You, too, Patrick,” while also reaching out, her hand only _just_ brushing over his shoulder. 

Brian’s no stranger to Pat’s body language, especially by now. He’s scared, yeah—but he’s also—there’s something _there._ The way his body goes rigid, the way his entire being is focused on watching. It’s the same look he gets sometimes when he’s under Brian, when he’s giving up control. 

Simone hops up onto a countertop, flirtily focusing her entire attention on Brian, flouncing and singing and planning and chatting. Pat looks a little lost, still standing up, and Brian glances over, wonders if he should tell Pat—if he should tell him what to do—is that okay—? 

Brian doesn’t _have_ to tell him what to do, it turns out; he scurries to the kitchen, and looks shyly up at Simone, waits for an open part in the conversation before asking, “can I get you something to drink, Simone…?” 

Simone’s face melts, a little, her tongue running over her bottom lip like she’s relishing this. It makes Brian feel a little hot, actually. “Un boulevardier, _Patrique,_ ” she purrs, and he sets to work on making her a cocktail—one with rye American whiskey, sweet vermouth, and campari. It’s darker pinkish orange in the glass as Pat mixes liquids together in a shaker, and Brian watches in wonder at Pat’s determined expression. 

_This—him, Simone, and Pat—could be,_ Brian thinks, _a thing._ He doesn’t know how to quantify it, or even maybe how to bring it up, but he’s seen the way Pat becomes all liquidy under Simone’s hands, how he melts into submission. And Simone and Brian have their own history, their own chemistry. When Pat gives Simone her drink, she tells him how very _good_ it is, and he smiles wide and big. 

Brian’s not one to shy away from seeing Pat smile like that more often. 

-

Simone and Brian make out. It’s not that _deep_ or _serious_ or _complicated_. In fact, it’s something neither of them think about very often, but especially not Simone, _come on, don’t be ridiculous._

It’s just that it’s _helpful_ to kiss, sometimes. In lots of situations. They work together and play together, they both like to party, and they’re around the same age—they’re both performers, but Simone also works with Allegra in security. But especially when Simone performs, _of course_ her and Brian kiss. 

At parties, when they’re both drunk and the jazz band is blaring and they’re both the stars of the night, the gorgeous glittering dolls, the prettiest sparkling jewels in the speakeasy. Even so, Brian’s gaze is headier still then the people surrounding them and their kiss is something inevitable, when their lips smash together messy and sweet. There’s some cheers from the people around them. If Simone’s eyes were open, they’d roll; she finds most of the customers here, who come to watch them, foul. 

She continues to kiss Brian, lingers with her hand on his chin, and when she opens her eyes, she finds that people are pressing forward, surrounding this little nook in the speakeasy like it’s a miniature stage, and some are holding up dollar bills, tips. With a wicked smile, she snatches the money from their hands and pulls Brian in for another hungry kiss. 

Also not for money, but for shock. They’ve done that, sure—to confuse people, to get people to leave them alone. One night at the Cottonwood Club a tall, broad man just wouldn’t stop bothering Brian, pestering him, but he wasn’t violent so it wasn’t easy to just get rid of him, to get one Allegra’s grunts after him. The only thing that _could_ stop him was Simone approaching them and crawling into Brian’s lap, kissing him silly, deep and performative, their tongues twisting together devilishly. Brian smiled into it. The man’s eyebrows furrowed, and he stared for a moment, before walking away and leaving the place. Simone honked out a laugh of celebration and pinched Brian’s cheek when she climbed off of him. 

And, hey, Simone understands that it’s easier for her to not catch feelings than it is for most. She’s not trying to read too far into it, anyway. But it’s easy enough for her to make out with Brian now and then and that’s it, that’s _all_. Nothing romantic needed. One helping of kisses with a side of uncomplication, thank you. 

But, she realizes, Brian may not be the same as her. He looks at her with big, wide eyes, and Simone recognizes something there, something like—yeah, she’s sure of it, something like submission. 

She’s not gonna think too hard about it. Besides, Simone’s not an idiot—she can see Brian’s head over heels for Pat, and he’s occupied now like he wasn’t before. So it’s a non-issue. 

What is an issue is Brian’s preoccupation with Simone’s feelings— _what? she doesn’t have feelings for her, shush, now_ —for Jenna. 

Today, Brian’s having a cocktail party, and it has to be perfect. 

He won’t sit down; he’s been bustling around the apartment all day, his sleeves pushed up to his elbows and a smock over his clothes, cleaning and cooking and trying to make everything perfect, and Pat’s been struggling to keep up, trying to help as much as he can. Simone arrives an hour early; she doesn’t knock as she enters the apartment. It makes Brian jump and then relax when he hears the door click shut, Simone already shedding her coat. 

She’s dressed more femininely than usual—still, it’s got a certain androgyne about it, especially in the wide-legged pants, and the strength of the boots she wears—in dark clothes, and her makeup is dramatic as she winks at Brian. “You’re lookin’ like a home-maker, Bri,” she jokes, grabbing his hand and twisting him into a hug. Despite his clear annoyance that she’s so early, he giggles into it, and they kiss each other’s cheeks. 

When they settle down on Brian’s sofa, warming Sim up from the cold, Brian eyes her up and down. “Well, I don’t know about _home-maker_ , but I’m not all dolled up like you; you look gorgeous, Sim,” and Simone rolls her eyes, squeezes Brian’s shoulder with strong fingers. “Who are you all done up for?” 

Simone rolls her eyes. “Nobody, you _sap_.” 

Brian presses. “Jenna?” he asks, gently. 

Simone gives him a disbelieving look, honks out a laugh. She can feel his eyes on her, feel her face heating up. “Oh my God, Brian, you poor little bunny, you’ve lost your mind. There’s nothing between Jenna and I.” 

Brian laughs a little, soft, and sighs, like he’s wiser than this, like he knows something Simone doesn’t. It makes Simone punch his arm, and he squawks out a swear in response. 

Brian puts Simone to work; he gets her helping Laura to set things out for the party. It surprises Simone how damn good Brian is at planning every time she sees it. There’s not a surface that isn’t covered in some sort of decoration, activity, or food and drink; there’s snacks laid out all over—pretzels, popcorn and other savory snacks, as well as sweets of all sorts, like Babe Ruths and Reeses and Mounds all spread over tables and flat surfaces. All of their alcohol—and _we have quite a range of alcohol,_ Brian would boast—is out and chilling in ice. It sparkles in the soft twinkling from the Christmas lights that Brian strung throughout the apartment, pinned to the wall near the ceiling. They make everything look softer in the apartment, including Pat, who’s helping alongside Brian, his hair ruffled in the light of the artificial LED. 

-

As time for the party approaches, Laura hides away in her room with Zuko and Charlie, but as the time rolls up for people to actually arrive, Brian’s still rocking on the balls of his feet nervously, because, well—he’s never hosted a cocktail party in this small of a space. Actually, he’s never hosted a cocktail party at all—save for parties he’s emceed during his nights performing in speakeasies, but this is different, this is his _home_ , these are his people. And even with just him, Laura, and Pat in the apartment, it can feel cramped—it’s _Manhattan,_ okay? There’s no way it _couldn’t_ feel cramped—so he’s worried, is all, with four more people joining. 

It’ll be fun, though. He’s sure of it. He’s even more sure when Jenna arrives next, five minutes early. She’s wearing a blouse tucked into teal skirt that falls to her shins and some cute Mary-Jane shoes, and her lipstick matches the bright teal color. Brian grins when he opens the apartment door and pulls her into a hug immediately. Jenna hugs back—she’s never one to not meet him back in affection, and he appreciates it, the crushing, comforting feeling of a good hug. 

After hugging her, Brian takes Jenna’s hand and spins her, watching her skirt billow out. From behind him, he feels Simone approach. She’s not saying anything, which is, to say the least, un-Simone-like. Brian feels the corners of his mouth being tugged up with a smile that’s difficult to resist because Brian can just _feel_ Simone’s attraction to Jenna radiating off of her. It’s adorable when Jenna’s eyes fall on Simone and her face lights up in a smile as Simone’s pushing past him gently and hugging Jenna. 

When Simone pulls back from it, presumably just to look at Jenna, she whistles low, and exclaims, “hotsy-totsy, tots!” and Jenna snorts, batting Simone on the shoulder with a gentle hand. They say hello with chaste kisses on each other’s cheeks, but Brian doesn’t miss the flush that rises to Simone’s when Jenna wipes a lipstick mark off of Simone’s with the pad of her thumb. 

Before they’ve even shut the front door to the harsh November cold, Allegra is approaching with Clayton just behind her, getting out of the same taxi. They live in the same area of New York, so they must’ve carpooled together. Allegra’s wrapped up in a wool coat from the cold, but underneath she’s got slim, pinstripe slacks tucked into boots. Behind her, Clayton trails along, in simple, warm dress. 

Allegra and Clayton approach the front door of the apartment. All at once, Brian realizes Pat’s never met Clayton—he’d have to fix that, obviously. When Clayton smiles down at Brian, lopsided and well-meaning and genuinely good, Brian feels that flippy feeling in his stomach, and pulls the taller man in for a hug. He returns it, and his arms are gentle around Brian’s back. 

Always Simone's foil, Brian can again feel a lurking presence behind him; it's Pat, he knows, can recognize by now. Clayton's gentle smile turns from Brian up to Pat. "Hello," he greets Pat, holding his hand out for Pat to shake, and Pat's meeting it with his own, their handshake near to Brian. “You must be Patrick?” 

“Just Pat,” Pat says simply, and he smiles at Clayton a little shyly. Brian’s heart goes a little haywire then—does Pat— 

They pull away from the handshake, but they’re still looking at each other, their energy gravitating towards each other. Clayton’s looking at Pat sneakily, and Brian doesn’t think Pat notices, but Brian certainly does. 

It’s not that Brian is angry that there’s an attraction between them; instead, he’s absolutely thrilled. He’s flirted with Clayton ever since Clayton joined staff at the Cottonwood to help with their tech. He’s their stage man, their person for audio, visual, for mics and speakers. He’s broad and tall, but polite, kind, quiet, humble. Brian wanted to crack him open like a walnut as soon as he laid his eyes on him. 

And now Pat seems to also want Clayton—? Well. That just makes things ever more fun for Brian. 

Brian ushers his friends inside, because as much fun as it is to stand in the cold, nobody wants to let the heat out of the apartment, and Pat’s already helping people take off their jackets and hang them up, the gentleman. 

Allegra is quick to hop onto their couch, and Simone follows, settling closeby— they’re comfortable together, coworkers, friends, just as close as Brian is to either of them. Throughout his time working at Cottonwood and beyond, he’s known Legs and Sim, and they’ve become as close as family. It feels good to share his home with them in this kind of way. 

Pat’s enlisting Jenna to bartend—she takes it up immediately, laughing, and Brian watches with easy eyes as Simone laughs at Jenna’s jokes, her fast, dextrous hands. Simone’s entranced by her. It’s beautiful to watch her, but Brian wishes he could push her in the right direction, provide the spark needed for their inevitable bonfire. 

Drinks are distributed—some simple, some convoluted, but Jenna’s skilled and Pat’s helpful as an assistant bartender. Brian’s trying his best to subdue his sure-to-be heart eyes as Pat pours him a martini and hands it to him, their hands lingering as they exchange the glass. Brian stirs it and looks up at Pat from under dark eyelashes—and it’s fun, to see the way it lights Pat up, the flush that it brings to the man’s face, the way a smile twitches at his composure. Allegra and Simone take a shot of whiskey together and Clayton’s drinking something sweet and Pat pours himself a tall glass of rosé, before pouring in a shot of moonshine. The gross fucker. 

Allegra’s calling them all to sit down, to circle up, because they must conspire and gossip and talk about all of their lives. Almost immediately after Pat sits down Brian’s leaning into his space, moving over on their sofa to press their legs together. It almost makes sense in the context of conserving space for their houseguests, but Brian’s self-aware, he knows how very obvious it is that he just wants to be this close to Pat and still, he’s going to, god damn it. 

Usually, Brian doesn’t like people to smoke in their apartment—cigarettes or cigars, anyway—because the smell lingers, makes everything hazy. He doesn’t fight Simone on it though when she pulls a cigarette and a slim lighter out of her jacket with slender fingers, holding it up for him to see and raising her eyebrows in an expressive question without any words. Brian exhales a little laugh and nods _yes,_ and she lights up, inhaling, and winking at Brian appreciatively. 

Allegra wrinkles her nose when Simone does this. “Geez, Sim, do you ever stop smoking?” she asks, as she elbows Simone playfully in the ribs. Simone yelps, rolls her eyes, and holds the cigarette as if to press it forward and hurt Legs. They’re comfortable roughhousing, working together for so many years the way they do. 

Clayton smiles, and it’s a halfway to a smirk, and he’s just as comfortable chiming in. “Smoking what? Tobacco or marijuana? I could guarantee you that she couldn’t stop doing both for any meaningful stretch of time,” and Simone’s laughing, flailing her hands out to hit him. Brian’s laughing too, the alcohol making it even easier to go along with the joke. 

With a devious smile, Brian leans forward conspiratorially. “Who wants to place bets that she brought some weed with her here to wheedle this party into smoking?” and Clayton, Jenna and Allegra are laughing, and Brian’s starting to giggle too, and Simone is groaning, her face flushed as she admits that _yes, she does have a few grams in her purse just in case, because she’s a great guest, thank you very much,_ and Brian’s busy and delighted watching the way Jenna’s eyes light up a little and then settle down with a smile. He almost doesn’t notice that Pat’s jaw has dropped open in a silent guffaw. 

"Pat's such a good egg. Look at his face. Oh, goodness, Patrick, you can't be serious—it's not like alcohol is legal, baby," Allegra says, and Simone nods as if concurring. Clayton's laugh is low and bubbling before he tips his glass back, drains the rest of his Daiquiri. 

Pat's fingers are tense and bite into Brian's skin where they grip his arm. Brian's eyebrows furrow, confused. "Something wrong?" he whispers, and Pat just groans and pulls him into Brian's bedroom, shutting the door behind them. 

Brian looks at him, expectant. "I'm assuming you didn't pull me in here to make out?" Despite his stress, Pat at least has the decency to laugh at Brian's joke, and Brian takes advantage of his softness, wraps his hands around Pat's waist. 

Pat just buries his head in Brian's shoulder, leans into him. His words are muffled against Brian’s skin. "Listen, Bri, I only just now realized that everyone here but me is familiar with and must’ve consumed weed before. And, like—it's not like I’m a narc or a class traitor or anything, I wouldn't be rash but I’ve never done— _smoked_ —marijuana." Brian's muffled little gasp, quickly cut off, is still loud in the quiet room. There's still chatting and a bit of music from Brian and Laura's gramophone in the living room, muffled through the door. 

He’s immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shock you. It's just—it's fairly normal in this world.” Pat doesn’t have to ask what he means when he says _this world_ ; it’s the queer world, the underground Manhattan night-life world, the strange world that he and Allegra and Simone and Jenna and Jeff and Clayton share. “Are you good? You don't have to smoke, you know."

Pat nods. "I’m good. I know." He pauses. "I don't want to be a bluenose, though." 

Brian snorts, leans his head into Pat's chest. "Not wanting to smoke weed doesn't make you a bluenose, Patrick," he breathes out. Brian watches Pat's expression, but knows that it is inevitable that Pat’s going to want to smoke, to want to try to fit in with Brian’s friends as best he can. He’s so open to it, is the thing; he wants to immerse himself in their culture, it seems, which Brian finds heartwarming and adorable. 

When they make their way back to the living room, Simone’s already lighting a joint, kneeling near Brian’s window with a flip lighter. Jenna’s nearby, sitting on the hardwood floor, and Brian watches Jenna’s eyes dart worriedly over to the door as it opens and closes, and she looks anxious. Brian soothes her expression with a friendly touch to her shoulder and lays down blankets at the cracks at the bottom of the doors, blocking the apartment’s air pathways in a manner he hopes doesn’t freak Pat out with its smoothness. 

Because, well, _listen._ Marijuana is not the most dangerous drug out there by a longshot, and sure, it’s illegal, but so is drinking, so is partying, so is dressing like a woman and so is Brian’s entire career, his entire existence. Might as well get high sometimes—what’s Brian got to lose?

Brian and Pat settle down sitting near the window, and Simone inhales and exhales smoke easily into the cold air before passing the joint over to Jenna. When their fingers touch, exchanging the little thing, Brian’s not sure which one of them linger, or if it’s both, their fingers brushing as they pass—but he can definitely see Simone’s face blush pink when she slides the lighter into Jenna’s palm. 

Jenna inhales and exhales with a cough—she’s less practiced than Simone—doesn’t smoke as often as Sim does. Jenna’s rambled to Brian before that she’s anxious and it helps to smoke, sometimes, but Simone’s like an actual stoner—a term that had made Brian giggle, _stoner? Seriously, Sim?_ As Jenna’s lips purse and she exhales in a controlled breath out the window, Simone’s eyes are glued to her lips. Brian watches Simone watch Jenna. It’s almost painfully obvious that they need to work this out, get rid of all this tension, just—they need to duke it out. Simone’s usually more direct than this, but Brian can see she’s nervous—doesn’t want to put herself out there, especially for a coworker. Simone’s always been against dating coworkers. 

That hasn't stopped her from agreeing slyly when Brian asked her, while they were packing up in the back room of the speakeasy last week, if she would be interested in joining Pat and him sometime. She seemed taken aback at first, shocked by Brian’s suggestion. 

What he’d said was _“would you ever like to dominate Patrick and I sometime?”_

_Her laugh was loud and sudden in the room—the band stopped playing for the night a little while ago, saxophonists packing away their horns, and everything was fairly quiet, as twilight long passed. Brian’s in the middle of changing out of his performing clothes and into more comfortable, normal clothing—he doesn’t every night, but tonight he wasn’t gunning to wear a corset on public transit, no thanks._

_She huffs, before saying, “for real?”_

_Brian peaks his head out from the privacy separator, looks her in the eyes, and nods. “Yeah. For sure. Listen, I don’t know shit about your sex life, Sim, but you seem like you’ve got that kind of… control. If you wanted to… play with Patrick and I, you could,” he affirms. It’s better than it feels to confront a crush about feelings—he’s speaking not only for himself but also for Pat, and Pat’s desires._

_Simone’s expression is unreadable before it twists into a smile. “Like, you mean, just for sex, but not—”_

_“Not a romantic relationship. Well. Unless you’d want one. I’d be open to it. I haven’t talked to Pat about that yet. But no, just sex. And friendship, obviously,” Brian says, tossing a stocking up on the divider as he begins to undo his costume. “But that’s up to you, Sim.”_

_Simone hums as she presumably thinks. Brian’s nerves are fluttering with prickles of electricity and anxiety before he hears her say, “Yeah, alright.” She clears her throat. “I, uh, don’t think I’m attracted to people romantic an awful lot. I like sex, but dates are a whole different thing.” There’s a little bit of shuffling Brian can hear from the other side and he freezes as he’s putting a shirt on, wondering if he should interject, but he waits her out, and finds there’s more. “Usually I don’t mix work and pleasure, but… I’ll make an exception for you two._

_“And hah, it’s not like we haven’t messed around before, Bri,” Simone teases as Brian finishes putting on his normal-people clothes, a button-up under a sweater tucked into pants, and Simone hands him his outer coat. And it’s true; Brian’s mind is racing as he thinks back to all the times that he and Simone have kissed on stage, while drunk, for convenience and for clarity. “Those times were fun,” Simone says, low and secretive. “This is shaping up to look like it could be even more fun.”_

_Brian stutters out a lame_ yeah _and Simone presses a kiss to his cheek. They’ve got each other’s numbers and information already, and that fact seems strangely intimate. As she dons her jacket and opens the door to the city cold, she’s looking back at Brian, and gives him a wink before disappearing._

 _Simone’s comfortable doing shit with him and Patrick,_ Brian thinks, _because it’s just sex._ There’s no feelings necessary in sex for Simone, and that’s great—but as Brian watches Simone watch Jenna, sharing her water with her when she coughs too hard on the exhale, honk-laughing at all of Jenna’s jokes, even the unfunny ones, and hooking their pinkies together as if Jenna would forget if they weren’t touching—he realizes how it may be different for Jenna. 

When the joint gets to Brian, he takes it in between nimble fingers and inhales, and remembers halfway through inhaling that he should probably act a little more ruffled about it, try to cough all ragged. Pat’s suspicious of him already—he’s not a _stoner_ like Simone, so a cough isn’t anything difficult to conjure. 

Pat’s watching him, though. And that’s okay—it’s not out of the normal, either. Pat’s always watching him, studying him, observing him. Now Brian figures Pat’s trying to study how exactly to inhale correctly for this, and how not to make a fool of himself in front of Brian’s friends—but Pat’s a smoker, has a habit for cigarettes before bed, anyway, so he shouldn’t have too much trouble. 

Though his fingers seem a little shaky, Pat takes the joint between his fingers and puts it to his lips, and he’s beautiful as he inhales. He actually doesn’t cough until he’s exhaled all the way— _a natural, god damn it, curse him,_ Brian’s mind supplies—but he does cough, a little shallow in his chest. He’s passing it off before taking a second hit and Brian figures that’s natural of him. He grips Pat’s hand and Pat squeezes it. His cough settles down soonafter. 

Brian’s glad for it, because he doesn’t smoke super often and the high is starting to affect him in a big way. He feels floaty, calm, his fingertips light and tingly. He’s hyperaware of the points on his body that connect him and Pat and how warm their skin is combined. His eyes follow as Clayton brings the joint to his lips, and he inhales easily, exhales with a huff out of the open window. He’s experienced, maybe a little of a stoner himself, and it’s _sexy_ —maybe that’s Brian’s horny brain supplying that, but it really is, to watch him smoke. 

He’s even more aware that, whoa, Simone and Jenna are kissing, _yeah,_ they definitely are. He’s not sure when they started but it’s gentle and slow, with Jenna’s hand firmly sliding from Simone’s jaw into her hair. Brian feels hypnotized looking at them— _gosh, of course they’re doing this spur of the moment, no communication beforehand, that’s so typical of both of them,_ he thinks. _He’ll make Simone talk to Jenna about it for real tomorrow._

For now, Simone’s going along with it, leaning just as enthusiastically into the kiss as Jenna, pressing her body into her and sighing into the kiss as if it has lifted a physical weight off of her shoulders. 

After that, it’s a little hazy. Brian knows that Sim and Jenna sneak off, probably to go be handsy and makeout elsewhere, and he has nothing but well-wishes for them as he settles closely near to Pat and Clayton. Allegra takes her coat and calls a taxi back to her own apartment, and Brian watches her leave with soft _goodbye_ s and _travel safe_ s.

He and Pat are kissing almost immediately, but Clayton’s so near to both of them that his body’s pressed up both of them, so near that his big warm hands splay out on both of their backs, press them forewards into each other, and it’s making Brian’s stomach buzz with excitement. When he pulls away, gasping, there’s an exchange of consent so efficient between he and Pat and Brian that it impresses Brian immensely—he’s the first to whisper out _oh my god Clayton, oh gosh, Pat I know we haven’t talked about this much but—_ and then Pat’s nodding his head and going _it’s okay me too_ and Clayton’s sharp inhale of air, afterwards, rattles Brian’s limbs and sends shocks of pleasure to his belly. _Jesus, okay,_ Clayton murmurs, and then he’s capturing Brian’s willing lips, kissing him soft and firm. Soonafter he’s kissing Pat, slow and relaxed, and Pat sighs into it like a cat in a patch of sunlight. 

Everything’s a little blurry around the edges and Brian settles into that haze, lets it overtake him. It’s comfortable to lean back and watch them kiss over his lap, to lose himself here. He should maybe be bothered that this is how his cocktail party ended, but he doesn’t mind at all, especially as Pat and Clayton share their warmth and cuddle up with him, and he falls asleep, stoned-sleepy, in willing arms. 

-

It turns out that getting Pat to actually go along with it is the most difficult part, for Brian. He’s a little more stubborn than Brian had anticipated originally—probably due to internalized toxic masculinity more than anything else, but Brian understands. Vulnerability is vital, but difficult. 

When Brian tried to bring up the subject of Simone dominating Pat, he’d just gawked in Brian’s face, and then barked out an uncomfortable laugh. 

Brian’s a bit disbelieving at Pat’s apprehension. “But you like bossing me around a bit, right, Pat?” 

“Yeah,” Pat says, a little bit of a whine in his voice. “But that’s just us, and it’s in the moment, and I don’t have to _think_ about it after.”

Brian laughs. “Well, start thinking about it!” 

As Pat’s collecting his thoughts, presumably thinking about starting to think about it, Brian pulls him out of his processing with the question: “Would you be into it if Simone bossed us _both_ around a bit?”

It’s a few days before Pat brings it up again. It’s nighttime, and Brian’s curled on top of their bed in pajamas with a mug of tea, reading a novel in the lamplight. Pat comes in from a bath, curls up next to him, and mentions softly, “I’ve thought about the thing with Sim, and yeah, I think I want—” Pat pauses, for an unbearably long moment, “—something, I’m not sure what... but like... I need us to start slow. I’ve never, uh, had more than one partner at once.”

Brian lets out a relieved breath. He closes his book, and puts it on his bedside table along with his mug, and instead takes Pat’s hands in his own. “Of course,” Brian says. “Definitely, absolutely. Don’t worry. We’ll have a full conversation with Simone, and we’ll outline everything very particularly.” 

Pat groans, his eyes pressing closed, and he reclines into the pillows and headboard of their bed dramatically, laying his other hand not holding Brian’s over his eyes. “God, Brian, the talking about it is the _worst_ part.” 

Brian can’t help but giggle—he may be the performer, but Pat matches him in drama every day. “Yeah, yeah, you’re a man affected by the patriarchy, feelings are hard to talk about, we know, but communication is beautiful, Pat.” 

From deep in his chest, Pat heaves a sigh, but he peeks out from under his arm to look at Brian and his eyes are sparkling, loving in the low light of evening. Brian’s so in love he can hardly stand it, and pulls Pat in to kiss him, slow and leisurely. 

\- 

It’s dark and they’re both just getting settled into bed when Brian feels Pat press his body close to his, Pat’s front pressing into the length of Brian’s back. Clear through the thin fabric separating their bodies, Pat’s cock is hard, presses into the space just below his back dimples, the dip carved by the curve of his ass. Brian’s eyes flutter closed. “Yeah?” he whispers into the darkness, arching into Pat’s touch. 

Pat responds in tune, wrapping a strong arm around Brian’s middle. “Yeah,” he sighs out, his breath warm on the flat of Brian’s back. Brian twists in his grip, lithe as anything, and runs his hands down Pat’s body, light, lingering. He loves touching Pat—tonight is no different. “I— uh, I wanted to talk to you about something, uh, that you uh, mentioned?” Brian’s hands don’t stop their motions, continuing to touch Pat’s bare chest, palms roaming over his warm skin, but he crooks at eyebrow up at Pat. He’s smirking. “About, uh, Simone?” 

Brian’s eyes close, like he’s basking in it, before they open to stare Pat down, narrowed and heady. He leans forward, presses a kiss into Pat’s collarbone, looks up at him from under dark eyelashes. “Thinking about Sim, baby?” he asks, his voice soft and controlled. His hands brush down on Pat’s torso, down down down, before meticulously painted fingers are dipping at the waistband of his boxers, sliding against his skin. The pads of Brian’s fingers brush over the little black hairs there, the hint of something more. Pat’s breath hitches on it, before he nods a quick yes. 

Brian’s mind races. Can he—? Is _this_ —?

“Mmm, want me to talk, babe?” he asks, and Pat’s eyes are wide and big and a little shiny when they bore into Brian’s. He visibly gulps, and then he’s nodding again. “Gonna have to hear a yes, sweetheart,” Brian prods, and Pat exhales a soft laugh.

“Yes, Brian, god, before I lose my nerve—”

With haste, Brian’s pulling Pat’s underwear down and out of the way in a deft movement, and he wraps a warm hand around Pat’s cock, still a little loose but _there_ , and Pat arches into it, pushes his hips into Brian’s loose fist. He’s moaning into Brian’s shoulder, wet and hot and low. Brian keeps his hand on Pat’s cock as his other hand flails out behind him to grab the lubricant perched precariously on their bedside table, because there’s no _way_ he’s going to disrupt any of the beautiful happenings that Pat’s exuding right now, not a chance in hell— 

He’s slicking up his hand with lube and bringing it back to Pat’s cock, and it’s better now, Brian can tell by the way Pat’s whole chest fills with air and he exhales it in a shaky groan: music to Brian’s ears. “Mmm, I wish I could hear _exactly_ what you were thinking about, but—” Brian flicks his wrist, sliding the backs of his knuckles over the sensitive underside of Pat’s cock. Pat’s mouth is open as if he was about to say something, but instead Brian wrenches this _moan_ out of him, whining and up-pitched. “Cat got your tongue?” Brian teases. Pat doesn’t respond; his eyes are pressed closed and he arches up into Brian’s touch. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking too, Pat,” Brian breathes out, and he’s not, like, egotistical or anything but he _knows_ how his voice sounds, all soft, only loud enough for Pat to hear. With his hand now wet, he’s pumping Pat steadily, slowly, his wrist moving languidly and caressing the sensitive head. Pat’s shaking with it, but he’s not moving too much, just breathing hard. Brian can work with that. “I’ve been thinking about you and Sim since the first night I took you to the Cottonwood.” 

There’s a sharp little inhale like a gasp from between Pat’s teeth. The corners of Brian’s lips crook into a smirk. “Yeah. Ever since I saw her press a kiss to your cheek, saw your dazed expression. I knew there was something there.” He twists his hand especially fast on the upstroke and Pat makes a strangled noise, like he can’t help it. “You froze up, stuttered out your name. It was adorable. She wasn’t in your space for two minutes and she made you an absolute mess. Think of what she could do with the right tools? The right time?” 

Pat’s face is twisted up when he quietly gasps out, “Tools?” 

Brian can’t help the grin that spreads over his face, feeling like a shark who’s gotten a sniff of blood, but he has enough shame at least to suppress it before he replies, still sliding his hand over Pat’s cock, still wringing beautiful, wonderful, squeaky noises out of him like it’s his goddamn job. “Mmm, yes, _tools,_ baby. Toys, if you’d like. And oh, she has a strap-on dildo too. She doesn’t have to fuck you like that, but she could if you want,” Brian files away the gasp and ruined moan Pat elicits after he says these words, in a mind-folder for safekeeping and later analysis, “and I certainly want her to wreck me, too.

“Not just that, though. Ropes. Cock rings. Cages,” he lists, watches Pat’s face morph into confusion, his brow furrowed, obviously not recognizing the names of some of these objects. That’s okay—there would always be more time. To— _god,_ to explain it to him, to show him, to do it with him. What a future to look forward to. 

But Pat’s looking at him with big wide eyes and he breathes out “ropes?” like it’s a prayer, a message to the Gods— 

And oh, what a beautiful thought. Pat’s skin is pale but when he’s flushed from desperation or sex; he would look even _more_ delicious tied up, ropes bound firm and steady on his skin. “Mmm, ropes, yeah. You like that idea? Wanna be a little tied up?” Brian asks, bringing one hand up to roll Pat’s nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he fists Pat’s cock steadily. “For me? For Sim?” 

Pat whines out a moan, breathy, his eyes pressed closed. But his lips are parted. “B-both,” and _oh_ , a shudder of intoxicated tingles of pleasure spread throughout Brian’s entire being, his soul, _fuck_. He physically can’t stop himself from diving into Pat’s neck mouth-first, biting and sucking as he works his hand and continues dragging sweet noises from Pat. 

“Both of us, huh? Want me to stand over you, fuck you, while Simone tells you what to do? Sits on your face?” Pat makes a choked moan, disbelieving. Brian’s on fire with it, jerking Pat’s cock faster and biting his shoulder. “You want that, baby?” 

Pat’s gone, wrecked, desperate, chanting _yes yes yes yes fuck_ and looking at Brian with pleading eyes, and _oh, fuck,_ that’s, that’s a pretty picture. He’s asking Brian a question, undeniably he is, but he’s not using words—he’s using those goddamn pretty eyes. Brian feels a swell of a mixed emotion between love and a boner deep in his belly and as he’s sliding the pad of his thumb over the sensitive head of Pat’s cock, he whispers low and ragged, “I want you to come for me,” and Pat’s limbs spasm and he’s gasping before his hips push forward into Brian’s fist and he’s coming, hard, with a broken yell of _Brian_ into Brian’s sex-sweaty hair. 

Brian’s unbearably hard and can feel himself aching and dribbling with precum against his underwear, and he’s bringing a hand down to shove his underwear down, get his cock free. Even that is so much that he’s gasping in oversensitivity, but then he hears Pat start to whine, and Brian looks up at him with wide eyes, sees that Pat’s eyes are open, a little weary from just coming, and he’s propping himself up, leaning forward, his mouth slack and open. He looks _wrecked_ from Brian’s hands and mouth; there’s a clear trail of bites on his neck and his stomach is sticky. “Let me help you,” he gets out, his voice a little wrecked, and it sends a shiver down Brian’s entire body to hear him, _so good, such a good boy._

Getting on his knees, Brian kneels near to Pat’s face, slides the head of it over Pat’s willing and open mouth, watches as white spreads over his pink lips, slips into his mouth. It’s exactly what Brian needs and he shudders before coming with a low moan into Pat’s mouth, onto his pink tongue.


	2. boats against the current

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“He’s so desperate for it. See?” Simone now actually disconnects their gaze, her eyes trailing over to where Pat’s sitting on the chair. Brian looks too—finds Pat with his face flushed, and doesn’t miss the way that his red, untouched cock jumps at the word_ desperate. _“Mmm. Bet he’d even wait on his knees on the hardwood, just to get a taste of your cock. Isn’t that right, Pat?”_
> 
> _Pat’s body goes rigid for a moment, his mouth falling open. His eyes dart up to Simone’s face, and then to the floor. “Yes.”_
> 
> _“Hmm,” Simone says, and she sounds genuinely disappointed. Her gaze drifts away from Pat, looks somewhere else._
> 
> _Pat’s body shakes a bit as he blurts out, “Yes, ma'am.”_
> 
> Simone gets involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to @spacegirl for writing this with me <3 you are my favorite person to write with forever!!!
> 
> warnings:
> 
> \- rpf  
> \- explicit sexual content  
> \- this chapter focuses on simone/pat/brian!  
> \- i will try to tag warnings and put warnings in the intro note in chapters for things like substances and typical triggering subjects, but feel free to let me know if there’s a better way to warn/tag/tw!  
> \- fic title and chapter titles are quotes from the great gatsby  
> \- pov switches every so often, separated by dashes. it shouldn't bother ya!
> 
> peas enjoy <3
> 
> \- scout

Simone’s usually a little more direct than creative— _you guys spend time taking erotic pictures,_ she had deadpanned when Brian told her, and not just fucking? Like, she can understand _foreplay._ She can understand the tension that comes from waiting. Hell, she _loves_ living in that space—loves making people wait on her, follow her every word and movement. It lights her ego on fire in the best way when she can shut Patrick up with the soft touch of his jaw or quiet Brian with a stern gaze. 

Once Brian'd explained why, exactly, this photo-taking occured, and how it made him feel, to be there, open on the chair, baring his body to the camera and to Pat—well. Brian's usually the more creative one out of the two of them, but Simone'd call her idea at least a little creative. 

Pat's nervous. Brian can see it in his every move, in the tension in his shoulders, in the way his eyes are darting back and forth from Brian to Simone and then to the window and then to the floor. Brian leans forward, cups his jaw, and presses a kiss to his forehead, and he feels Pat's muscles physically relax as he does so. 

Simone’s staring at her painted-black fingernails, pointedly not at him and Pat. Brian's not sure if she's feigning disinterest or if it's real disdain, but it runs a jolt of electricity down the base of his back and he straightens his posture, steps away.

Pat's naked on the wooden chair against the wall of their living room. His hands, Brian can see, are white-knuckled as they grip the edge of his seat. 

Simone's voice, sweet and smooth, fills the room. "Put your hands behind your back," she says, a little low, and Pat's eyes dart up to her face. Simone's not looking at him; she's still looking at her own hand, studying her nails and picking at her cuticles with something of a bored expression, but her words don't leave room for argument. Brian watches Pat react; his brows furrowed a little, but Brian's trained eye can see the little blush that's rising up to the tips of his ears, the bridge of his nose. He shuffles, detaching his hands from the seat and connecting them behind his back. Simone looks up at him, studies him, her eyes sliding over his body slowly. 

"Mmmm," she hums, shifting her gaze to Brian. She locks eyes with him purposefully. Pat shifts in his seat. "He's being good. Cute little thing." And it shouldn't run a shudder down Brian's whole body to hear her say that, to talk about Pat like he's _Brian's_. But it does. 

Simone holds Pat's camera, well, a little wrong. Brian knows by now; he's been around Pat while Pat's taking photos for long enough that he knows the cost of this kind of equipment—and it's Pat's lifeblood, his job, his soul. so Simone holding the camera a little awkwardly—whether that's on purpose or not—is making Pat even more nervous, Brian can tell. He's just about jumping out of his skin with it, his eyes bugging as Simone takes a picture of him, the first one.

Pat's photogenic—Brian can get a good picture out of him sometimes, especially if Brian's not the one taking it. He's a beautiful man, with a cutting jawline, and his smile's out of this world—but Brian's excited to see how this particular photo looks. _It might be slightly blurry,_ he thinks, because of Simone's disinterest in actually holding Pat's camera correctly, and he hopes it is, because _God,_ he wants to remember—and he's sure it'll be on Pat's face, in the picture, too. He wants to remember Pat’s expression: stripped down, vulnerable, _submissive_. He's looking up at Simone with wide, big eyes, hands locked behind his back, and he's letting a woman who actively ensures he knows that she _doesn't_ care touch and use the most expensive thing he owns, and baring his body for her to capture him there.

Pat’s quiet, watching her with the camera, and Brian thinks Pat knows he daren't correct Simone, or try and explain anything to her, because she will not have it. He’ll be told when he’s allowed to speak.

“Kiss Patrick, Bee, baby,” she says, her gaze locked with Brian’s, now. He nods immediately, leans down to connect their lips in a kiss. It’s a simple, chaste thing, a few seconds, maybe, but Brian’s good at following orders, and he’s not trying to disobey Simone right now. He’s shocked away from Pat, though, when he hears Simone’s laugh bubbling from behind them. 

Brian turns, confused and expectant, to look at Simone. She steps forward, gets nearer to them, runs her fingertips through Brian’s soft hair. His eyelashes flutter a little at the movement, and she hums at him. “You can take your time with him, you know. I mean, _look_ at him. He’d stay there forever for you, tied up on a chair, waiting for your mouth.” 

This is all said without a glance up at Pat—and it’s funny, because even though Brian’s holding Simone’s gaze, he can practically feel the heat radiating from Pat’s body at her words—at being talked about as though he’s not even in the room. There’s always a little bit of anxiety for Brian at these things—but Pat and him have talked about this, and he can signal at any time that he wants to tap out, with no negative consequences whatsoever. And—well. The best thing about this is that Brian can just sense how much this is affecting Pat. 

“He’s so desperate for it. See?” Simone now actually disconnects their gaze, her eyes trailing over to where Pat’s sitting on the chair. Brian looks too—finds Pat with his face flushed, and doesn’t miss the way that his red, untouched cock jumps at the word _desperate_. “Mmm. Bet he’d even wait on his knees on the hardwood, just to get a taste of your cock. Isn’t that right, Pat?” 

Pat’s body goes rigid for a moment, his mouth falling open. His eyes dart up to Simone’s face, and then to the floor. “Yes.” 

“Hmm,” Simone says, and she sounds genuinely disappointed. Her gaze drifts away from Pat, looks somewhere else. 

Pat’s body shakes a bit as he blurts out, “Yes, ma'am.” 

Simone grins wickedly. She dips her head down to kiss his forehead, quick, but it’s as clear a sign of praise as any from Simone, and Pat visibly relaxes, even more than when Brian had kissed him before this had all started. 

“Good,” she praises. “‘Ma’am’ is good. ‘Mama’ too.” Pat nods. Her eyes flit over from Pat to Brian. “You can touch him, now, Bee. Take your time.” 

Brian does take his time; he’s one to follow instructions, and follow them well. He first steps towards Pat, but doesn’t obscure Simone’s view of either of them. Easily, he slips a hand into Pat’s hair, gets his fingertips scritching in there the way that it relaxes Pat when he’s anxious. Slipping his hands out of Pat’s hair, he trails them over his neck, lingering at the hollow behind his ears, and tilts Pat’s head upwards. His gaze is so open, so willing. His lips are just slightly parted, mouth pink and ready to be turned red. 

Dipping down to connect them, Brian kisses Pat, but makes sure it’s different than the last time, tries to imagine what Simone would want him to take his time doing. He lets his lips linger even longer than he usually does when he kisses Pat; he doesn’t press forward, and doesn’t let Pat press forward, just kisses him soft with open, pliant lips for a while, simple. Pat’s trying to arch his body forward, to seek upwards, to try to meet Brian’s kiss with overly enthusiastic lips, so Brian slots himself between Pat’s legs, runs a hand soft up the flat of his chest, and twists a nipple _hard_ with the flats of his fingers, makes Pat cry out. “Mama Sim said let’s take our time,” Brian says, almost chiding. When their lips meet again, Pat’s mouth is softer and more tentative, and Brian smiles into it, softens the movements of his hands. 

Brian pulls back, but keeps running his hands over Pat’s body; he’s working over Pat’s shoulders now, brushing down his biceps with light hands, squeezing sometimes, pinching others. He spends a lot of time just kissing around Pat’s nipples; that’s particularly fun, the way his body arches forward and his breathing speeds up, chest heaving. Brian’s mouth is light but not soft—he nips and bites and sucks, but only long enough for Pat to feel it, only long enough for Pat to sense that he’s going to die before he does. 

Brian traces his fingers from Pat's shoulders down to his biceps and looks down, whispering, "Pat, you're so hard for us." Pat bites his lip, breathing heavy. Brian's fingers drift to Pat's chest, tracing down to his stomach. It makes Pat arch into the touches, ready for Brian's hands to finally drift to where he's desperate to be touched.

But Brian lifts his hands away and starts pinching and tracing up Pat's thighs instead and Pat whines, then, softly. 

“Bee, you think you could get lower? On your knees?” Simone asks, and Brian nods immediately, lowering himself onto his knees between Pat’s legs in three seconds flat. The implication is making Pat’s body blush red and pink—Brian can tell that Pat's aching to be touched in a real way, but Brian’s still drifting soft touches across Pat's hips and inner thighs, kissing the soft skin there. Brian knows Pat's body so intimately, by now, that he's confident and comfortable touching him where he knows Pat wouldn't let anyone else touch him.

Brian kisses and bites and nips all along Pat's inner thighs and massages his perineum and licks up and down wherever he can and wherever Simone tells him to. He can tell Pat's fingers are itching to move and get in his hair or to get any sort of relief at all, but Simone's eyes are watchful and whenever his fingers start to twitch, Pat looks back up at her. 

But even through some glances back at Simone, for the most part, Pat's staring down at Brian, his eyes glued to Brian’s soft, purposeful movements. 

Simone's voice is stern when she says, "Pat." 

He doesn't look up straight away. She taps her fingernails against her thigh impatiently. 

" _Pat_!" 

Pat jumps, looks up, eyes big and wide. She says, firmly, "Keep your eyes on me—you can touch his cock, now, Bee."

It's really _something_ that Pat is gasping even when Brian hasn’t even really touched his cock. Brian’s entranced staring at Pat processing the situation he’s in; he’s unable to drop eye contact with Simone who's beautiful and harsh, and he's not allowed to buck up into Brian's touch or respond much to Brian’s movements. Gingerly, Brian wraps a tight hand around the base of Pat's cock and holds him there, almost possessive.

The minute Brian starts slowly jerking Pat off, he's bucking up into it and Simone is there in a millisecond pushing Brian away and towering over Pat, and she reaches out her hand, strikes it across Pat’s face with a loud _crack_. 

She sighs, and disappointed, grits out, "I told you to sit _still_ , Patrick."

The slap across Pat’s face is loud and sharp. Brian's jaw drops a little bit, because although they'd talked and communicated boundaries, and Pat and Simone were both okay with this beforehand, it's still shocking as a noise, loud and clear through the silent air. When Brian tears his eyes away from Simone’s face, he sees that Pat's face is alit in red in the shape of Simone's slender hand.

It’s not just a physical effect that this slap has on Pat; Brian can see it’s affected him mentally, because his eyes glaze over a little bit, wet and dazed, blinking slowly, and he looks up at Simone almost as if everything in the world was solved with just one slap.

Simone watches him react, a hand coming up to caress the angry mark on his face, and he nods subtley to Brian to keep going. Pat's better then, keeps his eyes trained on Sim and he's still gasping, but his thighs and legs are tense and straining with the effort to be good, to stay still.

"S-sorry," Pat chokes out, and he's flushed red with what looks like guilty embarrassment down to his chest. 

"What for?" Simone asks as she cups his jaw, thumb running over his red cheek.

"For not staying still. For disobeying you."

Simone hums something proud and considers for a second. "Good. Say sorry to Brian too. The longer you take to behave yourself, the longer he has to wait to get off."

Pat finally drops his gaze from Simone to Brian then, and Brian looks like a picture, he’s sure, his shocked mouth hanging open and his hands twisted together in an effort to stop himself reaching out and touching Pat.

"Sorry, Brian, I'm really—" Pat's eyes flick back up to Simone, and then back to Brian. He looks truly like he feels bad, and his voice doesn’t sound like Pat does normally—it’s meeker, a little fuzzier, further away. "I really am sorry."

Brian’s little intake of breath is obvious in the quiet room. He reaches out to touch Pat’s face, to brush soft fingers over the angry red mark still raised from Simone’s slap. “It’s okay.” 

“Good. Good,” Simone praises. She looks triumphant, excited, as she looks at Brian. "Let’s see if he can stay still long enough for you to taste him, baby."

Brian's not one to disobey Simone’s orders at all but he still goes slow because he remembers Simone scolding him for kissing Pat too fast. Still on his knees in between Pat’s spread legs, he keeps his hand tight around the base of Pat's cock as he closes his mouth around the head of it, sucking and licking real delicate and nice, and Pat's whole body twitches in his grip. His head falls back like he cannot help it as Brian wrenches this broken moan out of him, sounding almost animalistic and so desperate. Simone threads a hand in Pat’s hair and jerks his head back up, rough, unforgiving, but Pat's body reacts almost instinctively positively to it, arching into Simone's touch, sobbing out _thank you_ as she tightens her hold to keep his head upright, keep his eyes open and looking at her.

Simone's got her hands in both of their hair—keeping Pat’s head straight, his eyes on her, and her other hand possessively running her fingers through Brian's hair as he sucks Pat off. She’s ready to pull Brian’s hair the _second_ he speeds up without her permission.

Pat’s eyes are wild, desperate, uninhibited as his mouth falls open, pink and wet. “Please,” he says, and Brian’s unsure if he hears himself, if he’s choosing to speak or not, because the words are falling from his lips like water, like he could not stop them if he tried. He sounds desperate, his voice broken, wrecked. “Please, _please_ , please, I need—Mama, can I please come, please, oh—oh fuck, _please_ —”

But even as Brian’s busy, his mouth around Pat’s cock and sucking and bobbing, he can see from his periphery Simone shaking her head fiercely, a clear answer—“No.”

Pat’s moan, then, is something even more than broken—it’s disbelieving, like a man told he’s on his deathbed—“No, you can’t come. Brian, come here.” And Brian feels bad, almost, as he gives the head of Pat’s cock one last lingering caress of his tongue before sliding off and raising to Simone’s level. 

She’s abandoned her work with Pat in favor of spoiling Brian with attention, now, sliding a hand up the front of Brian’s chest, settling it around his smooth throat. She doesn’t grip down hard at all, just flexes her fingers against the skin there, a physical reminder to Brian of who’s in charge.

"What do you want, Bee?” she asks, syrupy-sweet as she leans forward, presses kisses to his neck. Brian thinks of Pat though he wouldn’t say that out loud; he’s sure Pat’s stomach is aching, flipping as his previously impending orgasm fades into his bones. “Who do you want to touch you?" she presses. 

Brian's flustered, blushing under the turn of attention—there's so _much_ that he wants. He wants Pat’s cock inside him, he wants Simone to fuck him, he wants to help get Simone off, he wants, he wants, he _wants_...

Simone leans forward, closes the gap between them, and kisses Brian, sweet and soft and open mouthed. Their bodies close, now, Brian pants and ruts against her thigh, her hands controlled and firm on his body. She’s smirking just a little. "You want me to decide, don't you?" In response, his breathy _please_ turns into a whine when Simone reaches down to touch his cock, gets a hand around him, slick and smooth.

(Brian’s not sure if Pat realized before that _that’s_ torture for Brian, to have to decide, to be told he can have anything when the one thing he wants—getting fucked by Pat—has been completely taken off the table. Brian watches Pat’s face as he recovers from being edged, watches him watch Brian and Simone. Watches her take care of him in a way she already knows how to do, just from knowing Brian intimately as a person.)

Simone transfers this whole party to the bed, prying both of them up to go to Brian and Pat’s room. Almost immediately she’s pushing Pat down onto the bed, positioning Brian on Pat's lap, pretty thighs straddling him, and coming behind Brian to jerk him off. It's the perfect position for Pat to see exactly how Simone's taking Brian apart—and be so close to Brian but not allowed to touch him, whatsoever. Brian melts into Simone’s touch as she caresses him soft and nice; she's kissing his neck with gentle lips and her hand is careful and slick as it grips him, caresses the head of his cock with a soft firm palm and hisses in his ear about how _he's been a good boy for Mama, unlike Patrick here._

It’s not a minute in this position before Brian knows Pat’s going to crumble. He looks desperate, his eyes trained to the pretty picture right in front of him—Brian’s sure he looks wrecked, Simone taking him apart methodically with her mouth and fingers. He can tell it’s affecting Pat to see him like this too, to not be able to touch Brian though they’re inches away—to let Simone touch him, but _he can’t._

And really, Pat doesn’t look as though he means any harm when he goes to touch Brian—he probably didn’t even think about it. Pat’s hands come up from where they’d been gripping the sheets to slide down Brian’s sides, touching touching touching him, caressing the soft skin so available for his hands to rest on. 

Simone tuts out some disapproval, and Pat scrambles, his hands falling to his sides and instead intertwining into the sheets, twisting the bedclothes in tense hands. Still, even with his correction, she looks disappointed, sounds cold, as she says, "Pat. Hands behind your head." 

He follows her directions immediately, locks his hands together and rests his head on them, and Brian can tell he _wishes_ he had some sort of control over the situation, some sort of leverage. His face is flushed and he arches his body up to try to touch any part of Brian or Simone that he can. 

Simone’s voice changes and she's biting Brian's neck, soothing her bites with kisses. Brian’s putty in her careful hands and skillful mouth, and he squirms against her, listens to her whisper in his ear. Her voice is soft, gentle. "Pat's such a desperate thing, isn't he? Can't behave himself when he's looking at you. Who could blame him though, Brian? Look at how nicely you’re coming apart for me. So good, so pretty."

Pat’s whole body's sweat-slick as he looks at Brian squirming just on top of him, his mind zeroing in on the way Brian's thighs are pressed down into his own and how Simone's wrist sometimes collides with his midsection on the upstroke of Brian's cock. _Hah,_ even the way that some precum that is wetting Brian's hard red cock drips messy onto Pat’s belly. 

Simone keeps talking. "You've been so good for us, Bee. Pat looks like he might come at just the sight of you—that's how stunning you are." She's jerking Brian fast and he's wiggling against her and he's so _close_. Simone's voice gets so sweet and he thinks she's about to tell him to come for them but instead it's, "Look at you, Bee, so close, aren't you? Fuck, baby, the last thing we want is to make a mess. You can hold on for a second so you can readjust fuck Pat’s mouth to finish. You can do that, right?"

Brian has more control over himself than Pat necessarily does in these kinds of situations and _of course_ it's fucking miserable and hard to keep himself from coming and he feels his entire stomach flip and he gets almost dizzy with it, but he forces himself to gulp down his impending orgasm. He lets his head fall back against Simone's shoulder and gasps out, "Yes ma'am, please, oh _God_ —” and he's making these little _ah ah ah ah_ noises that Pat's honestly never even heard him make before. Simone grabs Brian by the hips and manhandles him backwards, so Pat can readjust, and Brian slots right back into their formation, with Pat now looking up at Brian from under dark wet eyelashes, his mouth slack and ready to be fucked. Brian's quick to thread a hand in Pat's hair and pull, to hear a groan come from him that's almost like a sigh. With a groan that comes from his belly, Brian slides into Pat’s mouth slow, feels on fire with the sensitivity of it, with the softness of Pat’s mouth. 

— 

Pat's hands come up to Brian's hips—he’s not trying to slow Brian down, he's just happy he seems to be allowed to (or at least getting away with) touching him again. Brian's snapping his hips a little frantically and it's a struggle for Pat not to choke and gag, but that's okay, because there's no way in any universe that Brian's going to be able to last more than a few seconds, especially when Simone's still whispering dirty things in his ear and scratching her nails down his side. Pat doesn't hear exactly what she says but he does hear the lines: _such a needy little slut. aren't you, Brian,_ and _good job, Pat's loving this as much as you,_ and _yeah, fuck him good, that’s it._

Simone's hands coming to grip at Brian and press into the bruises and hickeys at his neck and she's rough when she flicks and squeezes and presses at his nipples, makes his hips jerk forward into Pat's open and willing mouth. It's a symphony that Simone's surely conducting, between the wet choked noises and desperate whines from Pat and the soft, just there moans from Brian, broken and right on the edge. She's biting at Brian's ear, telling him to look at Pat, telling him to choke Pat, to pull his hair, to tug him around, to pull him apart. 

"Look at him, spread out for you just so you'll fuck his mouth. Got what you wanted, right, Brian? To take him apart? Make him weak for you? Get you two under me?” she asks, like she doesn’t know the answer. “Look where he got slapped earlier. Still red. Maybe it'll still be red tomorrow.” Her smirk is devious, pressed into the soft skin at the nape of Brian’s neck. “He doesn't deserve to get touched but he deserves to get fucked, so give it to him." It's making Brian frantic, his hips pistoning into Pat's mouth before he crumbles, coming hard into Pat's throat with a choked-off groan.

Pat swallows it all, and he looks still dazed from everything that's going on around him, and how hard he is and how desperate he feels. He doesn't even have time to take in what's going on when Brian pulls back still panting, because the second Brian's fingers are out of his hair, Simone's in his face kissing him so brutal, pulling his bottom lip between her teeth. 

Then, her voice doesn't sound so calculated anymore; she sounds kind of frantic, now. "God, Pat, that was hot, thank you for letting me join you." She dives back in, kisses him fierce and hot again, and then bites out that, "I want to use your mouth too. Then you can fuck me. That's fair, right? You'll come too fast, otherwise." 

It’s not a question so much as a command, and Pat scrambles to follow it. 

Simone moves Pat to where she wants him, kneels over him so she can lower herself over his face. Pat’s already wrapping his arms around her to pull her down so he can get his tongue on her. Simone gasps and shivers a little when he starts with lightly tracing his tongue through her folds up to circling her clit, and then moans loud when Pat stops holding back. He’s licking her fiercely, his tongue extended outwards so she can ride it as hard as she pleases, and she does, her hips circling in little patterns and thighs tensing around Pat’s head as she moans. 

Brian’s next to them, looming, hands itching at his sides, and his voice is quiet and begging when he says, “oh, _God,_ oh Jesus, you’re both so beautiful. Ma’am, can I, can I touch Pat?” 

Simone’s voice is harsh and firm, breaking from her breathy, pleasured sighs, when she answers Brian’s question: “No.” 

Pat whines under her which makes her gasp again, then she’s reaching an arm out to Brian dragging him over so she can kiss him, open-mouthed and wet, as she rocks down against Pat’s mouth.

Simone bears down on Pat, rocking her hips against his face, _using_ him and wrecking him. She readjusts them so Brian's also straddling Pat's middle and Pat's cock is basically always brushing over the curve of Brian's ass as Brian and Simone kiss dirty and hot above him.

It doesn’t take Simone that long to come, because she’s been worked up all night and Pat really puts his tongue to work. It’s just the right side of sloppy as he sucks on her clit and swirls his tongue, and Brian’s sure that the scruffiness of Pat’s beard rubbing against Simone’s thighs helps too. When she comes, Brian’s eyes are fixed on her; he’s a performer, but so is she, and this is no performance, this is real. Her hips twitch against Pat’s mouth, her body shaking and grinding downwards, moans falling from her parted lips. The second she’s finished with her orgasm, clinging to Brian and licking and yelling a moan into his mouth, she’s climbing off Pat, shooing Brian to the side, and turning so she can straddle him.

She takes his cock in her hand, rough, commandeering, to line it up with her entrance. Pat’s hands are all twitchy at his sides, unsure if he’s allowed to move them, allowed to touch her, so he just keeps them there, and Brian feels proud of him for it. He’s even prouder when Simone praises Pat, says, “so good for us,” as she slides down the length of him. Brian’s entranced watching Pat’s cock disappear into her, listening to Simone’s soft moan that turns steadily into a yell, groaning with how full she feels.

For a moment, Pat’s hands don’t move. It takes her telling him, “yeah, _yeah,_ Patrick, you can touch,” for him to reach up and pull her against him, lining their chests up. This way, he can kiss her neck, and buck up against her, twitch under her.

There’s been so much lead-up to this, so much time Pat’s spent humiliated and ignored and criticized, that this part is absolutely euphoric, for him, Brian can tell—the only words coming from his mouth are desperate, moany little noises, whines and gasps of _thank you thank you thank you fuck oh my god please oh fuck yes_ — 

Brian knows that Pat’s going to come soon before it happens; his legs are twitching in that familiar way and his face is blissed out, and Simone notices too, pulling off of him quickly and replacing the lost friction with her hand, smooth and wet and fast and soft, gripping him tightly with that trademark Simone moxy. Brian’s eyes widen as Pat’s body twitches all over again, his eyes shut in ecstacy, his mouth open in a broken, low moan as he comes, white spilling over Simone’s hand and wetting Pat’s stomach, his chest heaving up and down with exerted breath. 

As he opens his eyes, coming down from it, Brian’s head is racing thinking about how this is Pat’s first time having pleasurable sex with a woman, really. Pat’s told him about his experiences—his past relationships wherein he was half fucking out of a sense of obligation. He’d told Brian that it made sense when it had happened, how it was just the next step in a relationship, how proceeding with sex would surely stop people suspecting. But _this_ —during this, Pat is one-hundred-percent _there,_ in the moment, eyes blown wide with wild, heady pleasure. This experience is, Brian’s sure, mind blowing for Pat—in every way possible, Simone’s rocking his world. 

As soon as Pat’s opening his eyes and rolling his wrists to wake up his joints, Brian’s pushing to get close to him; the first thing Brian does is kiss him, sweet and quick, before asking quickly, “are you good? Do you need anything? Can I get you anything?” From behind them, Brian hears Simone giggle a little as she climbs off of Pat’s lower half, and Pat’s face stretches into a tired smile. 

“I’m good,” Pat responds, his voice a little gruff, words a little slow. “Wow. _You’re_ good. Both of you. ” 

This makes Simone hawk out a laugh, stronger than the last, but Brian’s still not satisfied, won’t let Pat go without a proper amount of aftercare. He’s kissing every inch of Pat’s face he can get at: his forehead, his pinkened cheeks, his bitten-red lips, his eyelids. Pat’s smiling under his gentle touch, and then smiles even more when Simone flops down on the bed next to him. Her face, too, is broken out into a smile, uncharacteristically genuine in its authenticity and goofiness. Brian flashes a grin straight back at her, his nerves beginning to settle down that Pat is, in fact, fine. 

Simone bites her lip through her wide smile, turns her gaze to the ceiling. “Oh, man,” she begins, and then laughs, wiping a hand across her brow. “I can’t believe we—it was so good.” 

Taking a rest, rolling his shoulders back, Brian flops down on the other side of Pat, curling up into him and resting his head on Pat’s chest. His curly, soft brown hair tickles Pat’s bare skin. “I know, right? God. Thank you, both of you. I’m so happy.” 

Simone chuckles; Brian hears it, doesn’t see it. He’s staring up at the ceiling, the evening light streaming through the window and drenching the walls in gold. They’re all lounging, now, and Brian’s eyelids feel somewhat heavy despite the clear need to clean up some of the messes made. Pat’s the first to disturb their little safe haven; he clears his throat apologetically, and then murmurs, “Bri, hate to move you, but I’ve got a mess on my stomach.” 

This makes Simone laugh again, and Brian can’t help but join in along with her giggles, which makes Pat simply shrug him off so he can rise to retrieve a rag from nearby. Simone and Brian continue laughing, though; it feels so natural to Brian to laugh with her, to trust her, to be vulnerable and intimate with her in the way they’ve done for so long that the transition to being vulnerable in the sexual sense is almost easy, for him. 

As Pat wipes his stomach off, he also retrieves a pair of boxers from the nearby drawer, recovering his decency. Snorting, Brian asks, “who’re you covering up for, cake-eater?” Simone cackles, raising to her elbows to look Pat up and down. 

Pat huffs a sigh, rolls his eyes, but he isn’t really frustrated, just plays along. “You two might be happy to lounge around naked but _I’m_ sticky. I’m gonna run a shower and I’ll be back to bed in a jiff.” 

Disappearing into the adjoining room, Pat begins to run a shower. Brian, unable to resist, calls to the next room, “Wanna conserve water?” before raising to his feet and following Pat into the bathroom. Rather than stay alone in bed, Simone follows at his heels, her eyebrows raised, and she murmurs, “well, I’m not missing this.” 

There’s not really enough room for all three of them in the clawfoot ceramic tub that Pat and Brian have in their bathroom. Still, Pat makes room for them both, and with Pat the closest to the showerhead and Simone leaning against the edge with Brian in the middle, Pat can easily wash and shower all he wants. Unsurprising to Pat, though, as the water drenches his hair and runs down his reddened skin, Brian and Simone are up to something, as usual. 

Brian's so eager and energetic, and Simone's so untired, that Brian’s lowering to his knees in front of her, her hand finding purchase in his damp hair easily. Without so much as a sentence of communication needed, Brian’s licking between her legs, spreading her thighs with careful hands and bobbing his head to use his tongue. 

He's on his knees on the ceramic for her, looking up at her with his hands around her, pulling her close as he licks her wet and fast and passionate. Brian's eager to please and she's alit with it, laughing at him, leaning back and looking at him, moving wet hair out of his eyes and telling Pat how good he is, how _he should let Brian eat her pussy more often._

Pat’s strangely comfortable standing a few feet away and washing his hair, talking with Simone when prompted. It’s making him smile to see them, to watch them interact, to watch Brian strain himself to make Simone come again. Simone’s ego really doesn’t need Brian stoking it, that’s for sure—she’s already smug as hell that Brian's all over her. And, besides that, there’s no way Pat’s getting a boner right now. Sure, the scene before him is practically irresistible—watching Brian give oral to someone else is almost hypnotizing—and Pat can tell his dick’s trying to get interested but he’s in his _thirties,_ okay. 

As Brian works his tongue over her and begins to add fingers, she spreads her legs a little wider appreciatively, tells Brian _mmm, thank you baby_ , before staring into the middle-distance, contemplative. “Brian, did you have a crush on me before you met Pat? Like a little one?” 

Pulling away just enough to answer, Brian laughs deeply, the sound vibrating close to Sim’s folds and making her legs jerk, spread wider. “Nah.”

“Sure,” Simone teases, her voice slanted sarcastically, before laughing, and Pat notices how distinct it is, how recognizable. Her nimble fingers come to shift the wet hair out of Brian’s eyes. "Your eyes are so pretty, Bee. I _know_ —I know how long you've wanted to get on your knees for me. Since you first joined staff at Cottonwood. Since the first performance we had together. Hell, I remember getting close to you when we kissed on stage once and you were _hard_ ," and Pat shivers a little at this, and at the red flush that rises to Brian's cheeks, but he's not stopping, just continues to work his mouth on her, being so very good, "Hah, but it's been worth the wait, you're—you're good, Bee, you—fuck, _yeah_ , like that," and she's moving her hips, arching up. Her hand's tight in Brian's hair, pulling him where she wants him, and he follows obediently, lets himself be moved and revels in the shakiness and erratic movements of Simone's hips as she shudders, gasps out _fuck, Brian_ and comes on his face.

As Pat exits the shower, Simone gives herself a rudimentary wash, and Pat’s mind is sated but prickling with exhaustion and headiness from watching Simone arch her back, grind down on Brian’s tongue. He retrieves towels from their drawers to dry himself off and hands Brian and Simone each a dry towel as they exit the tub, chattering like voiceboxes with each other, speaking their own little language. 

Watchful, Pat eyes Brian as he dries his body off; there’s something hyponotizing about watching his reddened, heated skin, with all its water droplets gathered on the smooth surface, and seeing a fluffy towel sop all that up, make him nearly dry again. His hair still drips, darker than usual, onto his shoulders. From behind him, Simone steals their handtowel off the hook and uses it to dry Brian’s waves, and Pat watches him melt into it. 

As they begin to dress, Simone starts to don her outside-clothes, and Brian grabs her arm, gives her a questioning look. Simone rolls her eyes. “What? It’s nearly evening. Can’t stay out too late,” she reasons. Pat doesn’t know Sim as well as Brian does, but this seems to be just politeness; she won’t invite herself to stay the night, won’t assume that she’s welcome to stay out of the blue. 

Like second nature, Brian waves her words off. “Oh, please, Sim. Just stay the night.” At her uncertain look, Brian waggles his eyebrows. “C’mon. We can do a reprise of that shower tomorrow morning if you like. Besides, there’s room for the three of us in our bed. It’s a king, you know!” 

Laughing and swatting at him, Simone agrees begrudgingly, and takes the pajamas that Brian offers her, a spare set of his own. They’re silk, some shorts and a tank top, and they suit her well, hug her curves and fall nicely over her smooth, rich skin. 

When they fall into bed, Brian is between Pat and Simone, and he’s hard almost straight away, embarrassingly. It’s a natural reaction to touching and being between his lovers’ naked bodies, with Pat down to just boxers and Simone having already shed her silk shorts. Their combined hot skin touching makes waves of tingles run from his scalp to the base of his spine. This doesn’t go unnoticed; Simone’s smirk is clear through the candlelit but dark bedroom, and she reaches forward to start touching Brian gently, running her hands down his bare chest and lingering around his nipples. 

Pat takes the cue well; his front to Brian’s back, he moves forward to kiss the crook of Brian’s neck, his soft lips moving steadily over the sensitive skin there. Jolts of pleasure shoot from Brian’s neck to his chest, and _oh, God, this is supposed to be a sweet moment,_ but he’s whining softly the second Simone’s hand drifts down from his chest to his stomach because he wants to be touched so badly.

Gosh, Pat's fitted so closely against him that Brian's stiffening up immediately, and Pat’s hand snakes forward to Brian’s front, his hands questioning and exploring, and when that sweet, firm hand finds his erection, Pat’s laughing into the quietness.

And Brian’s whiny because _oh my god Pat, don't laugh at me,_ but Pat whispers back, _you're seriously—you're not too tired?_

Simone's leaning into their space and sucking a hickey into Brian's neck, ghosting hands purposefully around the V of Brian's hips. Her smile, pressed into Brian’s skin, is almost wicked in its intent. _Mmm, he's always been so energized. I knew he'd have more than one go in him when we finally fucked._ Pat laughs and Sim laughs and Brian's gasping and shaking caught between them.

Pat dips his head forward to begin sucking hickeys into Brian’s neck as Simone jerks him and, as Brian thinks back to earlier, this is very similar to the configuration of their previous position, but now so different because Pat can kiss Brian and touch Simone and now, he’s not dying with desperation. 

And, really, it’s not like Brian’s some sex god, he’s just kind of just a hippie—a 1920s bohemian, but a bohemian all the same—and he’s truly dedicated to enjoying the physical, and trying new things, and saying yes to the kind of off the wall and unusual things in life. He’s a lithe, queer, strange balance between masculine and feminine, an enigma to the popular culture but a star to the underground world. He’s exploring, confident that he’s only got one life, so he’ll enjoy it. And _baby,_ is he enjoying it alright.

Now, Pat’s finally able to touch Simone with gentle hands, but she guides them and shows him where he can and can't touch, too. Brian’s caught between them with Simone's hands on him stroking him cruel and fast and absolutely delicious and Pat presses kisses into his throat, sometimes sucking and biting and Simone’s whispering _this is what you wanted all along, to get fucked by both of us at once, hah, wouldn't be surprised._ Brian gasps with it as his skin prickles with goosebumps. 

It doesn’t take long. By the time Pat’s hands drift down to touch Brian’s hips and thighs and start cupping his balls as Sim jerks him, Brian comes under their joint touches, arching into Pat’s firm body and into Simone’s cruel, sweet touch. His breath turns to soft groans as he does, and then settles, eyes closed as color blooms across his vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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**Author's Note:**

> next chapter..... simone gets involved and they HASH . IT. OUT
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